The Bladed Guardian
by The Lupine Sojourner
Summary: Subjects 83P65 and 89P13 didn't know freedom until NovaCorps raided HalfWorld labs, freeing them in the process. Once freed, they called themselves Blade and Rocket, making a name for themselves as Xandarian bounty hunters and (later) as Guardians of the Galaxy. Follows movie, with Rocket/OC and Starmora included. Rated 'T' for backstory (warnings in story) and Guardians' cussing.
1. From Simple to Advanced

**OKAY, Y'ALL! SO, AS INDICATED IN SUMMARY, HERE ARE THE WARNINGS, WHICH MADE ME PUT IT IN THE 'T' RATING. THEY ARE AS FOLLOWS:**

 **VIOLENCE, DISTURBING MENTAL IMAGERY, BLOOD, DISCRIPTION OF TORTUROUS METHODS OF SCIENTIFIC STUDIES, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH.**

 **SO HOLD ON TO YOUR SEATS, AND DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YA! AND, AS ALWAYS...**

 **GOD BLESS, AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

I have compartmentalized my life into two 'sections.'

Before, and After. I won't waste time on Before. Mainly because I don't remember it. In fact, the most I do remember from Before is being shoved into a sack. Literally. That's it, aside from the fact that I lived near some city. However, I can't remember which city, as I was too simple-minded at the time. While I wish I could say the same for After...I can't. These scars run too deep, and the nightmares are too real. But before I confuse you more, I will start off at the beginning.

=#=#=#=

What is the first thing, deep in your memories, that you vividly remember feeling? Can you picture it?

I can.

Pain. And lots of it. Agony, in fact. Pure, horrible, torturous agony. Agony so terrible it brought on my first tears, though I didn't know what they were at the time. I opened my eyes to darkness, then the sound of scraping. Something scrapping against something hard. As my eyes became fully capable of sight, I noticed men and women in stark white lab-coats. So white, they burned my eyes in the harsh, fluorescent light above me. They held something in their hands, looking at it, then at me, then back at the object in their hands, scribbling on it. Meanwhile, the agony spread to every part of me, going deep, too deep in fact. Mercifully, I passed out at some point. Either that, or I can't remember what came next.

I awoke to something cold and damp, pressing against my cheek. I groggily opened my eyes to find a creature staring back at me. It had fur like me, but it was in many different colors (I later learned that it was called a raccoon) and it stared at me with startlingly dark brown eyes that shone with a light bordering on intelligence. I shakily got on all fours, but soon collapsed again.

The creature beside me placed his side against mine, and helped me to my paws. I gazed around and found that we were in a large cage, the bars too thick and close together to even attempt to squeeze through. There was that white light again, flooding in through the bars of the cage. I sat down, with my forepaws in between my back ones. My entire body ached with residual pains from whatever had happened before I blacked out and the creature beside me seemed to be in a similar, if not identical position. He, too, sat down, cocking his head at me as though asking what was wrong. I nodded toward the bars of this cage, wincing when it sent a small flare of pain up my spine. Then, we heard footsteps, coming down the passage toward us. Soon, we saw humans approaching, and I instinctively backed as far into the corner as I could, trying to go through them somehow, and run away. However, that never happened as the door was opened, and a hand reached in, heading straight for me. I moved to the other corner as fast as I could, but something held onto my tail. I whirled my head around and saw a hand with an incredibly strong grip, dragging me toward the door. I tried to gain some kinda foothold, but found the floor too slick, the thing dragging me too powerful. As I was yanked from my cage, my head slammed against a protruding bar, narrowly missing my eye. I let out a loud and sharp bark of pain, cringing when the blood started trickling down my face. I was grabbed by the nape of the neck and hauled away, watching as a rather tall and frightening human reached into the cage, its hand emerging with the other creature's tail clasped inside it. The creature was then transitioned to being held in the same manner as I was being held.

=#=#=#=#=

I didn't like the feel of the cold thing most everything in the lab was made out of, I found out as I was forced onto my back on a slab of something very had and incredibly cold. The icy air seemed to radiate into my very bones. Then, my front paws were wrenched away before I could react, and when I tried to pull them back, the same icy thing I was laying on seemed to have taken a hold of my front paws. The process was repeated with my back-paws. The light above me was blinding at first, but my eyes adjusted relatively quickly. Then, I saw several of those odd creatures above me. They had odd, pointy things, hovering directly above my skin. I flinched away, despite the extremely awkward position I was in. It did nothing to stall the scientists, though, as they thrust whatever they held onto my neck. When they took it out, after much pain, it was colored crimson for some reason. They did this a few times before coming once again toward me, this time with that thing filled with some other liquid. They jabbed it into my front leg, and when they drew it out, it was clear. On and on this went before I was released and returned to the cage.

=#=#=#=#=

Then came the time I realized that I was starting to think like those vile scientists, using the same words to express myself, though it was only in my thoughts. I still couldn't talk. It had been a long time since that first memory, spent dreading every day. The injections. The blood samples...I also came to the startling realization that I looked more like the people holding me captive than the wolf I had been. It was quite alarming, only made slightly better by the fact that the raccoon had undergone the same changes. Though I looked more like the women, with the same...curves. And my companion took after the men.

=#=#=#=#=

"Sir! The subjects can't possibly be-"

"Shut up, McClagen! They are ready _enough_ for this procedure!"

Already my heart was pounding, as two scientists argued outside our cage before the one farther away pushed the one standing closer to our cage, McClagen, aside and opened the door. My tail went stiff against my back, but the figure somehow saw that, and reached for my wrists instead. I was dragged from our small sanctuary, the raccoon attempting to help me resist. But it was futile. Once again, I was held by the nape of the neck, leaving me practically helpless as I was carried toward the dreaded double steel doors that meant more torture. As usual, I was strapped down within minutes, my resistance meaning hardly anything to the men and women now standing above me. I was laid out on my back, heart pounding fit to burst, the beating sounding loudly in my ears. A man approached, scalpel in hand. He placed it at the base of my neck. I my eyes widened for a split second before I squeezed them shut again in agony as my mouth opened in a silent scream. Nothing ever came out, but I always tried. The scalpel sliced up my throat, leaving me to choke on my own blood as it was laid open, blood oozing into my fur and onto the metal table. I felt something grab the innards, and hold it slightly above it's original position. Then, a woman drew near with scissors. I couldn't breath, but still felt everything as the scissors cut whatever the man held. They placed the bloody pile of flesh and muscle on the small tray beside the surgical tools. I heard other people in the opposite corner, and gazed over in horror. The raccoon was in my position, as well! I felt like sobbing, but didn't dare. I knew that if I did, it would likely result in my demise, as my jugular vein was exposed, laying close to whatever the scientists has just removed. Yet another man approached with a bag full of something bloody and gross-looking, and he opened it, taking out whatever was inside. The woman took it, and I felt her hands inside my throat as I struggled to breath, the pressure there almost making it impossible. The woman then reached behind her, her free hand grasping something. She turned back with an already threaded needle in hand. I almost tried screaming again, but somehow kept my mouth shut, though I would have been making sounds if I could. The thread hurt, but the needle was worse, digging in and out again, repeating almost endlessly. Finally, the work was done, and I was wheeled back to the cage. However, the small amount of consideration ended there as I was thrown into the dark of our cage, sliding and tumbling slightly as I came to a halt. I felt my neck, and recoiled in pain when it flared up. There was thread there, keeping it together. All too soon, the raccoon was thrown inside, as well. He, too, felt his neck. Then turned toward me, blinking when he saw my stitches. We scooted closer, and our arms wrapped around each other, the sobbing causing extreme pain. We ended up leaning back against the walls of our prison, eventually falling into blissful darkness.

=#=#=#=#=

The next time I woke, I felt like my throat was in fire, and encased in ice at the same time. But it hurt more than anything. I breathed slowly, and the pain dulled a bit. The raccoon was awake as well. I grimaced when I felt my neck to find that those stitches were still there. My eyes teared up, and this time, an incredibly small whimper came out. I gasped with shock, then clapped a hand over my mouth. How were these sounds coming out? They hadn't before. This shouldn't be possible. Right? How long was I asleep? What had those scientists done to me? Why were they doing this to us in the first place? WHY?!

=#=#=#=#=

"Subject 83P65 is becoming sentient faster than anything we've ever seen, sir." The figure standing behind me said as I struggled against the restraints, laying flat out on my back. "That being said, I hardly think we need to give 83P65 the serum." What were they talking about? What were they going to do to me?

"Hmm. Perhaps we should give 83P65 the cybernetic nervous system observation implants, instead. See what happens." Another figure, this one above my head, suggested. The other figure hummed, as if deliberating.

"But it's clearly a female. We would be forced to insert them almost directly into it's-"

"I am well aware of the situation, McClagen." The second figure interrupted. I was panting heavily, still fruitlessly struggling against the icy metal restraints that were slicing into me the more I struggled. The figures seemed to decide on something. I couldn't see what they were going to do, but I knew that it was going to hurt. Nothing these scientists did to me didn't hurt. I felt the cold disinfectant-soaked rag, being drawn over my shoulder blades, leaving that slight burning sensation, then felt my fur forcibly shaved off. I knew better than to struggle when the razor was shaving sections of my fur. It only made it worse. As the scientists shaved, I was rigid, tense, awaiting whatever those 'implants' meant for me. I already knew it wasn't going to be pretty. Then, things clicked in my brain, and I suddenly knew what all this meant. They were preforming a surgery!

"Please! No! Don't!" I cried with my still raspy voice, which (once again) did nothing to stop the scientists as they drew nearer. There was suddenly pressure on my midsection, holding my body down.

"Beginning procedure...now." The first figure said, drawing a surgical mask over his nose and mouth.

Then my shoulders irrupted in pain. I let loose an extremely loud and frankly animalistic scream, arching my back, which only made the figures' job easier. I didn't care, only wanting to curl up, to sob in my cell with that other subject, the raccoon. Then, a cold, fiery pain slid deeper into my tissue and muscle. Whatever it was, it dove deep, reaching my spinal cord, making the pain increase tenfold. I was now blinded by pain as I thrashed.

It wasn't making much, if any, difference at all, due to the constant harsh pressure on my abdomen, forcing my shoulders up, and easier to cut into. Then, more slicing through my nerve-riddled muscle tissue. With my cursed advanced nerves, I literally felt the muscle being slit apart under the scalpel's blade. Then, right where the scalpel had opened a deep channel in my tissue, that icy fire filled the gap, making healing the affected tissue a relative impossibility. That's when it hit me. Whatever these scientists were doing to me, it was permanent. It wouldn't just heal up and be forgotten, leaving hardly any trace it had been there, like the injection and blood sample pricks. However I look coming out of this surgery, whatever had changed about me, I would be stuck like that.

Forever.

I wanted to hurl, but nothing was available for ejection. Then, the figures moved to my other shoulder, and the whole process was repeated. Another ear-splitting screech tore from my lips, hardly stopping for breath as the scalpel and whatever they were going that caused that fiery, icy feeling repeated the minutes of pain. Then, with the last strokes of the scalpel, one last piece of the frozen fire was put into place, and I was grabbed, released, and thrown back into my cage. I landed with a agonized yelp that sounded almost like a bark, sliding a few feet into the cage, only to find that I was alone in the dark.

"No, no, no." I whispered, curling into myself, hugging my legs, and resting my head on my knees, sobbing when my shoulders burned and ached with the movement.

I was alone. The raccoon had obviously died during surgery or something, like so many other subjects that faded away in this laboratory. There was no one left but me now. The others were long gone, their screams only echoes in my mind now...

I was all alone...

Until the raccoon was tossed inside after me. He came over, and we hugged, hissing when our shoulders burned.

"W-what did they do?" He asked. I gulped thickly.

"T-this." I said, and turned my bared back to him. He gasped, then hesitantly reached forward, gently tracing whatever those men and women had put in me.

"Gah! Please, don't!" I rasped out, gasping for breath as the pain subsided.

"Sorry." He replied, and I knew he meant it. He then turned around, and I saw that there were three metal spheres. One on each of his shoulders, and one at the very bottom of his neck.

"They did this to me, as well?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "This is what my back looks like, too?"

"Yes."

=#=#=#=#=

The next time I was on the table, I was laying on my back, making my shoulders ache and burn.

"The subject is prepped and the second half of the operation is a go." The figure said, and a scalpel was placed halfway down my sternum. The woman narrowed her eyes in concentration, pushed down, releasing agony, and pulling down, creating a thin line of fire down my chest. The scream sounded like an animal, but she didn't notice, calmly placing the scalpel a few inches below my collarbone, and sliced across, meeting the first line she had carved into me.

"Please, no! Gah!" She reached back, then brought this piece of machinery forward, and inserted the wires into the grooves she had just made in my tissue. Both ends had a bulb-like object on it. Like the raccoon's back implants. Man. I need to get a name for him. Something. _Anything._ I didn't want to keep calling him 'the raccoon'. It seemed too insensitive. Then, in the direct middle of the make-shift cross now oozing blood over my chest, the woman put a larger bulb, connected the other bulbs' wires to it, then reached for a needle and thread. So that's what that those last few minutes of pain always were. She stitched my chest up, showing no acknowledgment of my cries and screams. Then, a few more scientists came in and wheeled me to the cage before throwing me inside, slamming the door with a resounding _bang_. There were only a few blankets for warmth and cover. I grabbed one and pulled it over my quivering body, heedless of the flare in my shoulders. I was careful not to let anything touch my chest, still oozing small drops of blood.

The raccoon came shooting into the cage like a rocket after who-knows-how-long, landing with a bark before quickly covering himself with the only other blanket. It was a mutual agreement that we shouldn't be looking at each other's bare bodies. So we covered ourselves before the other was allowed to look up from the floor. I smirked. Rocket. That's an easy enough name to pronounce. Now for me. That proved a bit difficult.

=#=#=#=#=

The scientists soon grew curious as to how much we knew, and decided to test us. We were led by collar and leash to a room. Forced to sit down, and handed a sheet of problems to work through. Sometimes it was math, and sometimes, it was reading. Or language. Whatever the scientists seemed to think was necessary to test us on. After we had completed all of their stupid tests to their satisfaction, we were still forced into the chair, but now to either watch a video, or to listen to random lists of facts about any topic. I learned much about the universe, and it's various language. In a year, I could speak in about twenty different alien languages, as well as many Terran languages. I also knew just about everything concerning practically any planet. Of course, I was hooked up to electrodes and tested on this knowledge as I learned new material. I was shocked whenever I got something wrong, the bulbs on my chest and back ensuring I suffered tremendously. I eventually decided on a name for myself.

Blade, after the swords I learned about.

Tough lengths of steel or iron, sharpened to a deadly point. Swift, silent, lethal. It made me feel tougher than I really was.

=#=#=#=#=

I had stopped growing! I could no longer measure any differences in my height when I stood straight against a bar in the cage, scratching a mark to record my height. And I hadn't gone up for a few weeks. So, naturally, the scientists wanted to investigate. And, as always, they chose the most painful method of study possible.

Vivisection. The first time, the scalpel was pressed into the bottom of my ribcage, slicing down to my hips. The only up-side was that there were only women in the room as I was opened up, blood once again pooling on the table, seeping into my fur. The women pulled, tugged and prodded at my innards, nothing below them as they made notes and developed theories about my lack of growth. When they had enough notes to satisfy their thirst for information, they grabbed that dreaded needle and thread. I made sure to land on my back when they tossed me into the cage again. Within seconds, I was gripping the blanket tightly around myself, tears pooling at my feet as I sobbed. I felt dirty, exposed, violated.

This was wrong, what they were doing. I dreaded to think what Rocket was going through. I took a shuddering breath. Then flinched as the door was wrenched open and Rocket himself was tossed in. The door's _boom_ left my ears ringing. I gazed at the floor until Rocket said it was okay. Then, he was against my chest. I hissed and gently pushed him up.

"Sorry, but that hurts. A lot." I rasped. Rocket leaned against my shoulder instead.

"That...was awful." He breathed, voice shaky, his eyes looking haunted. I guessed mine were, as well.

"Yeah...they sliced you open, didn't they?" I asked, just to be sure. Rocket could only nod through his tears. I let them loose, as well, and we stayed like that til we slipped into sleep.

=#=#=#=#=

Several months of painful testing of every possible field they could test and vivisections, something changed. I was being dragged out of the cage, when the entire room tilted to one side, shaking so bad the man let me go, crashing against the wall as the room continued it's insane bouncing and wild tilting and crazy shaking. Other people crowded into the room as red lights flashed and klaxons blared.

"What the heck is going on?!" One demanded.

"It's NovaCorps!" Another replied. "They found us!"

"What do we do with the subjects?"

"There's no time! Run!"

My heart was pounding. In the confusion, the door was left open. At the first opportunity, we slipped out, and ran for the halls. We had been here long enough to know our way around, though we never let the scientists know that. That would be practically suicide. Then, we heard the men and women rushing around, gathering the notes and theories on us, their creations, their subjects. We dodged around scientists, who were only intent on saving themselves. Then, we literally ran into blue-clad legs. We stumbled back, ignoring any and all pain we felt. A kind-faced man with a military brown haircut and smiling eyes bent down slowly. I held out a hand to stop Rocket attacking and getting hurt.

"Hey there." He said slowly. Then, he noticed our scarred skin, and the implants we never could get out, and his face flashed in horror, anger, and disgust. "Did they do that to you?"

 **THERE IT IS, FOLKS! THIS ISN'T THE END, THOUGH. IT'S JUST THE CLOSE OF THE FIRST CHAPTER. I LOVED WRITING THIS, AND HOPE YOU LIKE READING IT! LOVE Y'ALL, AND HOPE TO HEAR FROM YOU!**

 **'TILL NEXT TIME!**


	2. The Unknown Reality of Freedom

**HERE IS THE SECOND CHAPTER TO THE OFFICIAL ORIGIN OF MY DEAR OC, BLADE. _NO STEALING_! ANYWAY...THIS HAD TO BE INTENSE AT FIRST. SORRY, BUT IT'S JUST...AS ROCKET ILLUDED TO IN THE BAR IN KNOWHERE. BEING 'TORN APART AND PUT BACK TOGETHER, OVER AND OVER'...LEADS ME TO SOME TRAUMTIC, YET INTERESTING, POSSIBILITIES. **

**GOD BLESS, AND GOOD DAY!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

"Did they do that to you?" The man asked again, hand slowly extending to point to our many scars and implants. I flinched back momentarily. Then nodded when he withdrew slowly, not moving toward us again.

"Yes, they did." I growl, wanting him to know that we weren't dumb animals. He leaned back, blinking in shock. He leaned back toward us, though, within seconds.

"Well, they won't hurt you anymore, okay? We're here to shut this place down. And you two are now free, uh...creatures." He explained gently, head tilted slightly to the side, probably still wondering if this was reality, or just one heckuva weird dream. It was my turn to step back in shock. Did he just say...we were...

"E-escape? We're really escaping?" I asked tentatively, now wondering myself if this was just a dream my wild imagination came up with to cope with spending eternity in this lab. Do I dare believe it? "Y-you're taking us away from here?" I asked, not moving from in front of Rocket. He pressed himself against me as soon as he heard the word 'escape' like he was gonna make a break for it. My hand gripped his shoulder to steady him. The man reached forward again, large smile on his face.

"Yes. We are getting you two outta here. You two are now free." He repeated, and this time, I took his hand. Rocket gasped, and stood there, shifting from foot to foot, deliberating. Finally, he took my hand.

=#=#=#=#=

However, escape was not as easy as we had once thought. We had to get through the drones. There seemed to be no end to them, but the men and women raiding the lab knew what they were doing. Rocket grinned when he saw the guns being used. I grimaced, distracted, and ended up stumbling over a track for a dreaded retrieval drone that was used when we were too rambunctious and unruly for the humans to drag into testing rooms. I rolled and sprang up, deliberately ignoring the pain I felt along the implants. I had still not fully recovered from the scientists putting the implants inside me and testing them frequently.

"You alright, Blade?" Rocket asked, even as we sprinted onward. I nod.

"Focus, Rocket. I'm fine. Just a stumble." I reply. "Don't need to worry." He frowns.

"Can't help it, can I?" He mumbles. I grin. Rocket and I...we had something...we don't know what it is, but we like it. We knew we'd be lost and maddened without each other. I shrug, and continue running. Hearing the whirring of drones ahead, I look around for some kind of weapon. I find a deactivated drone blasted apart against the wall a few feet away and sprint over. Taking a large knife (machete, really) out of it's tool compartment (what the machete was used for, I didn't want to know; probably disposal of the failed or increasingly volatile subjects), I tested it in my hand. It felt as though it had been made for me. I grin, turning and preparing to deal with the drones, but stop when I find Rocket, grinning like a madman, holding the guns of a fallen NovaCorps officer.

"What are you doing?" I ask. "Please put those down."

"What? You're allowed a weapon, and I'm not?" He asks, a little waspishly, the smile gone. I grimace.

"I just...fine. Just don't point them at me." I mumble. Those look too similar to the ones used for the blood sample needles that were utilized when the scientists had needed larger samples. Shaking myself, I turn back to our guide. "Let's go." I grumble, and stalk forward, machete clutched in readiness. Swinging it out as I round the corner, one drone beeps out an alarm, it's body nearly sliced in half before I slice through the speaker, finishing the half-done slice to sever it completely in two. The man helping us escape blinked.

"Nice." He notes, grinning, as we continue on, dealing with far more drones than I had previously thought could possibly fit in this building, especially considering that this facility was not all that large. I pick up the scent of human too late just as I round a corner, stumbling to a halt in front of several scientists, Rocket right beside me and our escort dealing with a few security drones down the hall

"Subject 89P13, and Subject 83P65. Should have known." The leader growls, drawing out a taser. I swallow, but narrow my eyes in defiance. "Surrender and we may go a little easy with the punishments." I growl, the memory of the punishments flashing in front of me. The hours we were forced to run on a treadmill at top speed, the blood transfusions that were strictly for punishment, among many other forms of torture...I resist the urge to shudder.

"Yeah, right. NovaCorps has shut this place down, in case you didn't notice." Rocket snaps. "You've fricking lost." The leader shrugs.

"Oh, this is just a minor setback." I scoff.

"You're insane." But, just as the words left my mouth, I suddenly realized with a sinking sense of dread why this guy had kept us talking. I was clued in by the thin noose snapping close around my neck. I gagged and struggled to breath as I was lifted into the air. Rocket tried to come to my rescue, looking panicked and desperate, but he was smacked into the wall and restrained by another drone, gagging under another noose. I was losing vision quickly, my blood and labored breathing roaring in my ears, and there was nothing I could-

Thank God the man was there to shoot those pesky robots! I swallowed air greedily and the world was clear and steady again. The blackness was gone. Suddenly, I was wrapped in small but strong arms. Rocket sighed in relief as I hugged him back. "I'm okay, Rocket. It's over. I'm alright. It's okay." I said, repeating it a few times as I take another breath, clearing my throat subtly, ignoring the gravelly nature of my voice.

"Let's get outta here already!" I hear him quip with false bravado a moment or two later, the chittering behind the words betraying him.

We were ushered down halls and out to the man's ship, meeting little resistance, as most of the drones and scientists were busy dealing with the NovaCorps in other sectors. It was a large star-shaped yellow and blue craft, the bottom two spikes of the star forming the landing gear. We were shown to a long bench at the back, and given blankets, which we hurriedly wrapped around our bodies before leaning against each other, laughing, exhausted yet giddy with the prospect of escape.

However, we weren't in the clear yet. It seemed that a scientist had crept aboard our rescuer's odd craft while the pilot was disengaging the landing gear, off in the cockpit. We ducked down, praying he hadn't seen us. We gazed around. There weren't any weapons of any sort in here. At least, none that we could see. The scientist strode around, searching this ship, no doubt. Just as he was about to discover us, with our claws out, ready to put up all the fight we could muster, the man started twitching, and convulsing oddly, groans and whimpers escaping his lips. When he finally collapsed, our rescuer appeared behind the scientist, holding a powerful-looking taser in his hands.

"You two alright?" Was the only thing he said as he came forward. We gave the men a few punches and kicks, for good measure before answering.

"Yeah, we're fine, thanks to you, sir." I said, resorting to physically dragging Rocket off the man to get him to stop. "We owe ya one." I added. He tucked his taser into its sheath and strode over to make sure we weren't injured.

"Thank goodness!" He said. "Now...you wanna see the cockpit?" Rocket nodded so fast, I was sure he got whiplash. I laughed and nodded, as well, as our savior lead us down a thin hallway.

=#=#=#=#=

It was a long flight back to Xandar (where the man said he was gonna take us) I found out, but was fascinated with everything I saw. The swirling cosmic gases, forming pink, blue and orange mists that swirled and swayed as we passed. The pictures implanted in our brains during our 'education' did nothing to truly capture the sights space had to offer.

"Hey, um, since we're gonna be hanging out for a while before we get to Xandar...I think it's time we exchanged names, doncha think?" The man asked politely, never taking his eyes off his course. I chuckled.

"Sounds fair. My name is Blade, and this is my friend Rocket." I said, patting Rocket's shoulder as I spoke.

"Corpsman Ja-Raan Raymond, at your service." The man replied. I blinked.

"Oh. Um, I think it's us who are in _your_ debt, Mr. Raymond." I replied. He merely chuckled.

"Man, have we got a lot to do with you two." He muttered, probably more to himself than anyone else. "I mean, you don't havta, like, be my servants, or-" Suddenly, an alarm went off, and the ship was bathed in emergency red lighting. "What the heck?!" Corpsman Raymond cursed and attempted to pinpoint the attacker's location as they continued firing on the yellow ship. Turned out to be none other than more of those blasted scientists (with—go figure—an illegal laboratory on HalfWorld, the planet we had just left) piloting a white ship in front of us, almost breaking through the yellow ship's shields as it continued firing on us.

Suddenly, Ja-Raan stood up, clicked a few buttons, hummed in thought for about two seconds, clutching his seat as a shudder rocked the ship. Then, he cursed under his breath before turning to us. "Do you trust me?' He asked, with a graveness to his tone that I didn't like. I nodded slowly, warily. He nodded to himself, and stood still for another second before charging past us, grabbing our wrists as he did. We let out cries of alarm that bordered on panic, pulling away frantically, not thinking clearly and remembering that he was not here to hurt us. He dragged us down the one small hall in this ship before thrusting us into an escape pod as the ship continued to lurch around, the door snapping shut just as we got to it.

"Wait! What are you doing?!" I cried, pounding on the door as Raymond slammed the launch button, just as black-wearing men and women came charging into the hallway of pods, before spotting Raymond, shooting him full of holes, blood splattering all over the door just as we launched. Rocket started pounding the door, trying to get out somehow.

"Ja-Raan!" He screamed, over and over, slamming his fists against the metal door even as we sped toward the planet below, which we would be hitting any minute now...

I have never liked using my larger size and strength to my own advantage, but I had to get Rocket into his seat _somehow_. He refused to step away from that door, calling after Jaa-Raan again and again. I turned to him and punched the base of his skull. He was out like a light. Quickly dragging him over to the seats, I had him buckled in seconds. The pod's shaking was getting a lot worse. Then, I sat down in another seat, and buckled myself in, just as the pod met the planet's surface in a blinding flash of light. I lost consciousness as the pod hit something and went flying.

=#=#=#=#=

Pounding. And more pounding. That's all I know. Whether it's in my head, someone attempting to get into the pod, or Rocket trying to get out, I had no clue. The first thing I saw was Rocket's wide, teary and panicked eyes. He was shaking my shoulders. Suddenly, I was aware of pain, flaring up all over my body, especially my head, as I woke fully up.

"Blade, come on! Wake up! _Please_!" Rocket cried, voice cracking slightly. He kept shaking me, even as I tried to sit up. I collapsed again, feeling sick and dizzy, and it took him a moment to realize that I was awake, and he quickly resumed his typical, passive, almost angry expression. There was slight fear underneath it, though, as he clutched his bleeding arm. Was that bone sticking out of it? The pounding was still there, pulling me from my weary, and fuzzy thoughts. Why were they so fuzzy? Although I knew some of the awfully loud throbbing was just in my head ( _gosh_ my head hurt), I also heard something pounding on the pod's door. Then, vines broke through the door, gripping it like a hand would. The heck? What the heck was this?

"I am Groot!" A booming male voice thundered out before the door came completely off. I still felt light-headed, like my head had been emptied in the crash, but I ignored that as Rocket and I gazed at each other. Did who-or what-ever opened the door just say 'I am Groot' as 'I'm coming'? We turned toward the doorway again, as a _tree_ came _walking_ into the pod, bending almost at the waist just to fit inside. Seriously, this guy was _tttaaalll._ About eight feet altogether. He had a very caring and gentle wooden face, with deep brown eyes narrowed in concentration, but with a satisfied smile. We watched as he came closer, eyes now shining with concern, mouth drawn down slightly in worry. When we came to the realization that he was concerned about us, we gazed at ourselves. Both me and Rocket had several bruises, deep gashes, and various other injuries, most of which were bleeding at varying speeds. I myself had my right leg practically encased in blood, pieces of broken, bloody bone sticking out at the worst angles. And to top it all off, I started feeling nauseous and swaying where I sat, the adrenaline wearing off and pain kicking in full force.

"Rocket, catch meeeee..." I drawled out as my eyes rolled up, and I blacked out.

=#=#=#=#=

"-Groot." ("-of you") _That sounded really close..._

"I'm...fine, Groot." _That was Rocket...just a tiny bit farther away...owwww_

"I am _Groot._ " (Uh-huh. _Sure_.")

"No, really, I-" Rocket stuttered to a stop mid-word as I sat up groggily and groaned, reaching for my head. I ended up leaning against whatever I had woken up on...with a splitting headache to blame. Guess that crash took more of a toll than I realized. I let my eyes close, trying to ease the pain in my temples by messaging them.

Then, something a bit coarse and woody gripped my wrists gently, easing it away from my head, and plopping them back at my side. My eyes snapped open to find myself sitting in...uh, Groot's (I'm assuming) lap. My wounds looked expertly treated, the ones that had been bleeding wrapped in emerald green leaves and secured with thin vines. There were fairly thick vines, wrapping tightly around my lower leg like a cast. The heck? Blinking the grogginess from my eyes, I found that I was in a hut literally comprised of a tree. There was large emerald colored leaves, acting as curtains covering the windows, fluttering slightly in the breeze. _This was odd but do-able_ , I decided, and gazed around to find Rocket, sitting calmly (now that I was awake) on Groot's knee. He gazed at me with concern, but there was also a small hint of a smile on his face. Something I knew I had Groot to thank for.

"Mornin', sunshine! Aren't you looking chipper today!" He chirped, tilting his head with a larger smile taking over his face. A rare occurrence, but it was a welcome sight.

"Mornin' yerself, Rocky. Yer nah mush bettah." I replied, meaning to sound snarky, but ended up slurring slightly. _Why does my mouth feel fuzzy, and light?_ I thought dimly as I tried to stand up, only to sway back and forth. Groot's vines immediately steadied me. I blinked a few times. Until Ja-Raan came along, no one had cared about us like this. At all. Soon, I was standing upright, no longer swaying and feeling like I was made of jelly and clouds.

"I am Groot. I am Groot." (You shouldn't move. You lost a lot of blood.") Groot explained. I nod.

"Thanks...Groot was it?" I asked politely. It would be _really_ awkward if that wasn't exactly his name.

"I am Groot." He replied with a polite nod. ("Yes.")

 _How was I doing this? How could I understand this tree-man? Weird._

Groot cut my thoughts off as he tilted his head to the side. I chuckle to myself and look down thoughtfully, feeling slightly unsettled, but unsure why.

"I am Groot?" He asked. ("What's wrong?") I thought for a moment, pondering what exactly was wrong. Was it the fact that Groot was so caring? _No..._ Was it that, even though I _wanted_ to trust Groot, I couldn't seem to be able to? _Possibly..._ I shook my head, already tiring of this internal debate.

"I guess...we just haven't had much experience with...nice people." I said tentatively. Groot looked shocked.

"I am Groot." ("Sorry to hear that.") He said, his hands fiddling in his lap. He kept his gaze fixed on his hands, as though they held a great amount of interest all of a sudden.

"It ain't yer fault, Groot." Rocket said, placing a comforting paw on our new friend's shoulder. Groot looked ready to cry, so I put my hands on his.

"Groot...thank you for helping us out back there." I said, and I meant it. Groot looked up at me. "Without you...we would be in a bad position." I said. Well, okay, the worst that would've happened is we would have been stuck in that pod for a while, until we figured out how to open the door, then we would have had to figure out how to treat our wounds. Which, now that I think about it...is a bad situation.

"I am Groot?" He asked hopefully. ("Really? You think so?") I nodded, and the cheerful sparkle to his eyes returned. Rocket was back to smiling as well. This was good. This was very good.

=#=#=#=#=

Groot insisted we stay with him until our wounds had healed. We caved almost instantly. I mean, we didn't really have any other plan. And we figured it was better than staying alone out in the woods, alone and in pain. Then, we probably would have had to re-break and set our broken limbs. So staying with Groot sounded _lot_ better. He told us a lot about this world while we recovered. This planet was literally called Planet X. I am not joking. And the other trees weren't as tall of Groot here, so he was something of a black sheep. We were quick to assure him that we understood that.

Heck, we were black sheep ourselves. Or, to put it in Rocket's own words, 'there ain't no thing like us, 'cept us!'. He had never understood exactly what we used to be. Literally, if you called him a raccoon, he would respond by asking you what a raccoon was. I knew what a timber-wolf was, though. So I wasn't too offended when that's how someone referred to me. At least, outwardly. Although the only beings that called me that was Groot's people, whom I had met on walks around Groot's hut, trying to keep my muscles active. It was the only time I felt productive. In fact, I was lucky to be let out of the house. Groot was a _little_ possessive of us. But it was a welcome change from the dismissive behavior the scientists treated us with.

Then came the joyous day, a few boring weeks later, that our wounds were finally fully healed. We were then called to meet with the Elders of Planet X, to discuss how to get us off the planet.

Yeah. They were _that_ ready to get rid of us. Apparently, they don't take kindly to mysterious visitors from another planet suddenly crash-landing in one of their clearings. Go figure. And we weren't the first people to land here. There was one other ship. The pilot had died on impact, so the ship had been simply left to decay by the Elders. It was a modest vessel, hardly visible in the mound that had formed over it. The Elders said that it would never be able to fly. Rocket just smiled at them before diving into the inner workings, the sounds of tinkering filling the air moments later.

=#=#=#=#=

"Can you believe those Elders, Blade?" Rocket asked, poking his head out of the engine and other compartments, working on getting this craft airborne.

"Hmm..." I hummed in agreement. "They are a bit rude. But I'm sure they mean well." I said. Rocket scoffed.

"Uh-huh."

"I mean, they have a whole planet to think about. Not just what we, as two mere foreigners, want."

"Whatever." Rocket snapped, and went back under the metal floor. It had been almost two days since Rocket had started repairing the abandoned ship. And it seemed no closer to being able to fly. I had total faith in Rocket, but it seemed a daunting task, even for him. "I'm just saying that they are a little too ready to push us off this planet, although we didn't do anything here, really. At all." He added, over the sound of screws tightening.

"But, again, they don't know us, and they have their people's safety as top priority." Rocket sighed.

"If you say so."

=#=#=#=#=

It wasn't until the fourth day of repairs that we were able to get the ship flying again. Only Groot expressed any emotion other than relief at seeing us prepare to go.

"I am Groot!" ("I'm coming, too!") He called, suddenly, beginning to compact himself into as small a form as possible. I smile.

"I appreciate, it, but-"

"I _am_ Groot." (I _am_ coming.") He interjected fiercely. I shrug.

"If you want." Rocket acquiesces, heading into the ship to prep it for lift-off. "There should be enough room, if we don't getting' kinda cozy."

"You better hope this flight doesn't take too long, Rocket." I grumbled, blushing slightly as I squeeze into the small craft.

When we entered space, we got as comfortable as we could and tried to relax. The ship was set on auto-pilot, taking us to Xandar. Without any change in plans, that's where we would live. At least for now. That plan has so many things wrong with it. Oh, well. Too tired to think right now...


	3. Bounty Hunting can be Fun

**FINALLY OUT OF THE BRUTAL OPENING. SORRY, BUT IT WAS NECESSARY. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE SLIGHTLY LIGHTER TONE. THIS CHAPTER DEALS WITH BLADE, ROCKET, AND GROOT SETTLING IN XANDAR AND ESTABLISHING THEMSELVES AS BOUNTY HUNTERS.**

 **GOD BLESS AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

"What are we gonna do when we get there, Blade?" Rocket asked after an hour or two long nap, shaking me awake. I hum, sleepy and wanting to go back to it.

"I'm...honestly not 100% sure yet, but we'll figure it out."

"Together, right?" He asked. I smile.

"I am Groot?" ("Together means me, too, right?") Groot adds. I lean against the tree-man, who took up much of the cockpit, but that was okay. We didn't need to move around much.

"Of course, big guy. We wouldn't leave you all alone in the big, wide world of Xandar." I reply, assuring him of his place in our lives. Rocket and I had certainly taken a little time warming up to his possessive, caring, and nurturing nature, but once we had, we both agreed that he was a steady fixture in our lives. He _wanted_ to hang around with us. So we decided to let him, unable to bear hurting him, even if Rocket teased him constantly. However, Groot knew we _both_ cared about him dearly. I'd explained Rocket's more crass and brash nature to Groot when the teasing started, and he didn't take Rocket's teasing seriously and personally anymore.

With nothing more to say, we settled for another nap. It felt good to sleep and not dread what you'd find waking up, even after weeks on the gorgeous Planet X.

* * *

Landing on Xandar was a lot smoother than our landing on Planet X, but the engines, unused for centuries, probably, had simply given out just as we entered Xandar's atmosphere. Leaving us falling and landing on the landing gear, so we slid to a pretty smooth stop, though there were several bumps along the way. I stand, groaning as my muscles pop and protest, reaching down and helping Rocket up once the ship settled into the dirt in a Xandarian forest clearing.

"Everyone alright?" I ask.

"I am Groot." (Yes, I think so.") Groot replies. Rocket nods, rolling his shoulders experimentally. He then clicked a few buttons on the control board.

"At least we got to Xandar before we were forced to land." He muses. "But this thing ain't going nowhere now. Even under my TLC." He adds.

"Yeah." I agree. "Good thing we don't _need_ it to go anywhere else. Now, let's go check Xandar out." We then leave, the door sliding open on ancient, squeaky hydraulics. We emerge and instantly cringe in the sunlight. Blinking, our eyes adjust quickly and we are greeted with the shiniest, most advanced city I had ever seen, which, really, meant it was the first city I had ever seen. (Groot's people each had their own huts, but I wouldn't really call it a city.) We start toward it, and are greeted with so many smells and sights, we have to stand still for a moment to take it all in. Once we had, we walk down the streets, admiring everything there was to see, including several different alien species and their pets and children. It was nice, although we got a few odd stares and whispers. I had to take Rocket's hand to tell him he didn't need to get violent as he growled at each whisperer and attempted petting (yes, some people just couldn't help themselves). It would only draw more attention to ourselves and we didn't want that. Eventually, after about an hour of wondering without a clue what we were doing, we enter an alley and stop to plan out what we were going to do.

"Obviously, we need to get whatever money is used here." Rocket starts. I strain my memory of alien currency.

"Units." I recall a moment later. "We need Units, and for that, we need a job. Stealing is right out." Rocket scoffs. "Yes, it _is_. To steal is to get into trouble, and we _definitely_ don't need that right now." I reply, crossing my arms. Rocket shrugs.

"Okay, okay. Fine. But what the frick kinda job are three oddballs like us gonna be able to get?!" I hum in thought.

"We need to check the news, I guess." Rocket cocks a brow. "It's either that, or simply walk into these businesses and ask if they have any job openings for two anthropomorphic animals and a living tree-man." I point out. Rocket nods.

"Yeah, that's out of the question." He replies. I groan, rubbing my hands over my face at the myriad of problems facing us.

"I guess we're gonna need to mingle and see if we can get some info from locals." I muse.

"How is that different than asking for a job?" Rocket asks, shifting uncomfortably.

"We're just catching up with current events. We aren't making a scene of asking for employment." He nods.

"Whatever." He grumbles. I sigh, placing a hand on his shoulder. It's painfully obvious he doesn't like the thought of mingling and asking anyone for help, but there isn't any other options here. We are literal aliens on this planet; We don't know the culture, people, _anything_ really about this planet besides the most common languages and basic cultural celebrations and gods, due to our education on HalfWorld.

"I really think this is the best thing for us to do right now, Rocket. We need to keep a low profile, but find a job. I think this is a solid plan." He looks at me and smiles.

"If you think it'll work, then I guess I trust you." I smile at him.

"Thanks. Now, let's get going."

"Right behind you." Rocket replies, sounding actually kinda happy for once. I smile, feeling flustered and hot in the cheeks.

=#=#=#=#=

It took a bit of time, but we managed to find out that the HalfWorld raid was still all over the news, with reports flickering over most of the thin portable screens that were everywhere.

 _"NovaCorps officers report that, while they have captured many of the heartless scientists responsible for the grisly and unauthorized experiments, there are still more to round up. A hot line is open for any and all information on these scientists, considered enemies of Xandar, with a reward is also offered to those who assist the NovaCorps."_ Came one report in particular. I grit my teeth.

"Can you believe that?" Rocket growls. "Those freaks are still out there?" I nod.

"Well, yeah. They are crafty, sneaky scientists. They know what they're doing." Rocket then grinned.

"What if we were the ones to bring 'em in?" He asked. I blink.

"And just how are we going to do that?"

"We know them better than these d'ast idiots." I shiver.

"Don't need to remind me." I murmur.

"Yeah, me neither. Anyway, we wouldn't have too much trouble finding them, if we had one of those fancy screens."

"We can't afford it." I point out.

"We could look through garbage and find one, fix it up." I hum in thought.

"My, my, Rocket. That's a really sensible and thought-out plan." I tease, acting surprised. He glares at me.

"Yeah, yeah. Every once in a while, I can actually make a plan." I nudge his shoulder, feeling guilty about the tease.

"I was just teasing you and you know that." He sighs.

"I know."

=#=#=#=#=

Turns out, there was a veritable treasure trove of amazing things contained in Xandar's many garbage disposal units. We found small, tunic-like clothes that actually fit snugly with a little alteration. Mine was a slightly green light blue, while Rocket's was a decently bright orange.

"You look nice in that." He compliments. I look at myself in the shiny metal of the shop's back wall.

"Yeah, I do. So do you, Rocky." I'd started calling him Rocky a while ago, and he seemed to like it. Which made me all the happier to call him by his nickname, even if he couldn't return the favor; can't really shorten Blade into a nickname.

We move on to an electronics store, where we find screens that seemed perfectly okay. They were simply not the latest model, however, so they had been carelessly tossed aside. Rocket and I congratulated each other on our find and scurried toward an abandoned strip of storage units we had decided to use as our temporary base of operations. That done, we went to search for blankets and other bedding items we would need. On the way, we found food and supplies we also needed. All in all, we had a very productive day and were essentially ready to begin hunting our torturers the next day when we laid down to sleep, exhausted but satisfied.

=#=#=#=#=

The next day was spent fortifying the units to act as holding cells for the scientists with lumber abandoned in several units, as well as other carpenter tools. By noon, we sighed in relief and stepped back to admire our work. It was a base to be proud of. Now, onto filling our cells. We'd set parameters for the search while we wrapped up the fortifications. Now, we narrowed down the nearest hits and hoped that the results were actually HalfWorld deserters, not just people returning to the planet, as we had researched which beings had entered Xandar since we escaped, and then which had entered in arrivals that time period from the sector HalfWorld was in. That narrowed it down even further. Poor Groot was dumbfounded by all this technology, having lived on a world of vegetation, without a single technological advance beyond the wheel and a pipe system for water and plumbing. I had to explain what I was doing a few times to Groot, and he seemed to get it. Eventually, we decided on a target and moved out. I swallowed, wondering what we'd find, praying it was a scientist, not just some unfortunate tourist or returning Xandarian.

The target was secluded in a seedy, smelly, smoky backwater bar in an even more seedy part of town. I took to clutching my machete handle tightly, ready should anyone want to make a move on us. We entered the pub silently, and instantly located the target. She had ditched the lab coat for a fairly plain outfit of black leggings and a tunic that had the same black material as the leggings sticking out. She gulped the drink in front of her down like it was her last, the glass clinking against the counter audible from where we stood at the entrance. We decide to sit at the bar ("Shut up, Rocket, and trust me!" I'd snapped) and gauge her reaction. That black outfit beneath the tunic seemed an awful lot like the HalfWorld uniform, but I could be wrong, so for now Rocket and I play it cool, with Groot waiting outside. That helped me calm down. We weren't helpless animals anymore, no longer living in fear. We had a friend, a very powerful friend that would not hesitate to protect us, like Jaa-ran had done, bless his soul.

"Ho-how...you...I thought..." I narrow my eyes, turning to face a woman who had felt none of her current fear and disbelief as she slit me open, causing me pain and in general making Rocket and I's life miserable. "I didn't think you'd made it." I scoffed.

"Sorry to disappoint, lady." She swallowed, then in an instant had knocked me back into Rocket's bar stool and was sprinting out of the bar before we could untangle ourselves. I cursed, helped Rocket up, and we took off after her. We found her skidding to a halt before Groot. He had done his job well. She whirled to face us, and was somehow smirking.

"I am astonished. You can speak and communicate with a member of Planet X." I narrow my eyes.

"We've been able to _talk_ since you transplanted our vocal cords, leaving us choking on our own blood!" I scream before I can stop myself. She swallows.

"We...we..." I press her against the wall, coming up to her ribcage.

"You have _nothing_ to say that could come _close_ to a justification for what you put us through, even though you _knew_ we were sentient, you _knew_ we could feel _everything_ you did! So shut. Your. Mouth." I growl. Then step back, panting under my emotions. "Groot, grab her, please." Her eyes widen.

"Wait...wha-agh!" She grunts as Groot's vines snap around her torso, pinning her arms against her sides, hoisting her into the air. "Wha-what are you gonna do?" She whimpers. I don't even look back as Rocket replies.

"If it were up to me, you'd be bleeding out the head in that alley. Is it stands, there's a reward for your capture and we need the Units. Lucky you."

"Oh, and we don't have anything against hurting you before we turn you in. Just saying. Don't need to be cared for, you just need to be _alive_." I add, and I can hear her whimper that might have been closer to a sob. "So don't even think about escaping."

One of the design features we had agreed on for our cells was that we didn't want to hear whatever our prisoners would have to say, so we had done what we could to sound-proof the rooms. The woman was thrust unceremoniously into the cell. We then went to our personal quarters, set up in the very first unit. I sigh heavily as I sink into a corner.

"That was harder than I thought." I note.

"Yeah. Had to really refrain from shooting five or six slugs into her fricking face." Rocket growls.

"I am Groot." ("I still don't know what they did to you.") I groan, and try and shake off the emerging memories.

"Well...let's just say that they were not nice to me and Rocket. They...they caused us a lot of pain for no reason other than they could." I reply. "Really, Groot, we aren't ready just yet." I add before more haunting questions are asked, settling down and grabbing a screen. "Let's just get them rounded up and turned in. The sooner, the better." I growl. We still had more than enough time to nag another scientist before dark. I run through the list for the next closest. I smirk. The scientist was a few streets over, in a partially demolished apartment building. This would be easy.

=#=#=#=#=

The man was pressed into a corner when we arrived, this time taking Groot into the building with us at his insistence.

"Knew you'd be coming for me." He whispered when we walked into the room he was in. There were several bottles littered about the room, and spots that reeked of vomit. "Only a matter of time." He adds, swigging from yet another bottle of alcohol. Out of disgust, I strike the bottle out of his hands. It shatters against the wall.

"You're pathetic." Rocket growls, pushing the man over. "Can't handle what you did, that it? Are the memories too much for you?" He mocks in an extremely derisive voice.

"I hated it, you know. I knew you would feel everything, but..."

"What? You needed the money? You didn't protest cus you wanted a few Units to get by?" I snap.

"Yes. My name's Aaron McClagen, by the way. I am sorry for what you-"

"You _don't_ get to say that!" Rocket and I roar. "You don't get to be _sorry_ when you _tortured_ us for _months_ , years even! Groot, if you please." I snap, still glaring at McClagen, even as he is hoisted and carried away. There were three other targets. If I reacted like this for each one...this would be a long couple of days, at most.

=#=#=#=#=

"I see you think yourself intelligent, in control. You think yourself sentient." The last scientist growls, squirming in Groot's vines. I stop dead. The other three hadn't been this sharp on the wordplay. One had been in an alcohol-induced slumber, one ran into a pole after we chased him a whole city block, and the third just held up his hands in surrender.

"I _am_ sentient, you d'ast _git_." I growl. "My _name_ is Blade and my _friend_ is Rocket. We've been sentient _long_ before we escaped that _hell-hole_ you tortured us in."

"We _made_ you who you are. If not for us, you would be simple, dumb animals on Terra, unknowing and uncaring of your potential." He replies. I narrow my eyes, but chose not to reply as vines snapped painfully tight over the man's mouth. Not another word was said until Groot locks him tight in his cell while we enter the unit that served as our home. When the door clocked shut, Rocket kicked a table over.

"Can't believe I let him get away with talkin' 'bout you like that." He growls. I sigh.

"We rose above inflicting the pain they inflicted on us on them. We proved we're better than them."

"I didn't do it cus o' that." Rocket mumbles, now suddenly shy as he turns the table back over, adjusting the chairs around it and making it appear he hadn't knocked the table over.

"Oh?" I ask, leaning against the boxes that served as a seat.

"I only held myself back cus you asked me to." I cock a brow.

"Really? Why?"

"I...I...I like makin' you happy. It makes me happy." I smile.

"It does make me happy, but there's another thing that makes me even happier about you." I confess, stepping toward him.

"Oh?" Rocket asks.

"I like it when you hang around me. I like it when you just _know_ how to make me laugh or scoff and face-palm, all because you know it'll make me happy. I like _you_ , Rocket." I then pause. "You know, I heard a word a long time ago, and I never thought I'd use it til now." I mumble, purposefully not revealing much more than that. Rocket leans in.

"The word being?"

"Love. I _love_ you, Rocket." I reply, facing him boldly, cupping his cheek tenderly. He smiles, then in one motion, has me dipped as if we had been dancing. He then touches our lips and it's weird and odd, but normal and natural all at once, and I love that feeling erupting from inside me.

"I saw humies doing it, figured we could at least try." He muses when we break apart. I smirk and pull him down for another kiss.

"I'd say you succeeded, Rocky." I reply, happy that we were finally able to identify what exactly we felt for one another.

It was the best feeling in the world.

"Oh, that's just _wrong_." One of our prisoners remarks. I groan. Apparently, the sound-proofing was not as sound-proof as we'd thought. However, just as I opened my mouth to instruct him where to stick it, I was cut off. By another scientist, of all people.

"We _gave_ them their sentience and then left them in the same cage when we were through. It doesn't surprise or disturb me. _Shut up_." It was the one who had introduced himself as McClagen. I shake myself out of my stupor.

"Thank you." I mumble, even as I pick up a screen and look up that hotline number. It was found in moments.

 _"Hello?"_

"Yes, I'm calling about the HalfWorld scientists still at large." The woman on the other end seemed to perk up.

 _"Yes?"_

"They're all holed up in an abandoned storage unit in the southwest quadrant." I reply.

 _"_ All _of them?"_ She asks incredulously.

"Yes. My mate and I found them all for you." The woman takes a few moments to register what she's heard.

 _"Very well. We'll be there in thirty minutes."_ I thank her and end the call.

"The sooner, the better." Rocket grumbled. "I oughta teach that stupid-"

"Rocket, the situation is handled. NovaCorps are coming to take these scientists away. It's over. I've let it go. Please, calm down." I interject.

"Any chance of food?" A scientist (the one in the drunken stupor, I think) asked timidly.

" _No_!" Rocket and I snapped.

=#=#=#=#=

"You two managed to nag _all_ of the HalfWorld scientists?" A Corpsman asked, looking down at us in bewilderment. I nod.

"Yessir. Me and my mate figured out the parameters for the search-why are you looking at me like that?" I ask, stepping back at the sudden haunted, faraway look in the man's eyes.

"The HalfWorld raid...it feels like a lifetime ago...but I...you are the two..."

"Yes, sir, we are those two creatures. We owe our freedom to you. Figured we might as well repay the debt." I reply. The man shakes himself.

"Thank you for all your help. Corpsman Jaa-ran was right to usher you two to safety. Most of us were too disgusted with these slimebags to think of anything else but nabbing them and shutting that awful place down for good."

"Don't blame you, sir." I reply, shivering subtly.

"Regardless, thank you again. It's a load off everyone's shoulders, knowing they're off the streets." The Corpsman said, leaving with a smart salute. Rocket put his arm around my hips protectively as the scientists were handcuffed and led into the waiting transport craft. As it soared off, it felt like a huge weight off my shoulders. I leaned into Rocket's embrace.

"I feel so much better." We muse simultaneously. "I love you, you know." I add. Rocket spins me for another kiss.

"I do. I love you, too." We then kiss again and return to the only home we've had on Xandar. "You know, I kinda like this bounty hunter thing we started." Rocket muses. I hum, still leaning on him and enjoying the nighttime view.

"I think it's a pretty sweet deal, too."


	4. 10 Months Later: The Beginning

**AS THE TITLE SUGGESTS, THIS TAKES PLACE 1O MONTHS AFTER THE LAST CHAPTER. THEY'VE HAD A LOT OF ADVENTURES DURING THAT TIME, BUT (WHILE I MAY REFERENCE THEM) I AM EAGER TO GET TO THE MOVIE, SO...TIME SKIP.**

 **I BLAME MR. DOCTOR, REALLY. ;)( _LOVED_ DOC STRANGE. CAN'T YOU TELL?)  
**

 **WARNING: I WILL WRITE THE WORDS AS THEY ARE SPOKEN IN THE MOVIE. THAT MEANS THE CURSING AND OTHER THINGS. I AM SORRY, BUT IT WOULD BE DEGRADING TO THE MOVIE TO DO SOMETHING SO (FRANKLY) CHILDISH AND STUPID. I AM SORRY IF THIS MEANS SOME OF YOU ARE UNABLE TO CONTINUE READING MY STORY. I HOPE YOU SIMPLY IGNORE THE WORDS AND ENJOY THE FIC REGARDLESS, BUT I LEAVE THAT UP TO YOU.**

 **ANYWAY, HOPE YOU ARE ENJOYING THIS STORY AS MUCH AS I ADORE WRITING THIS FOR YOU , AND YOU ALL SHOULD CHECK OUT A SONG CALLED 'MONSTERS' BY KATY SKYE. IT'S BEAUTIFUL, AND I THINK IT SUMS BLADE'S POV ON THEIR RELATIONSHIP PERFECTLY. I ADORE THE SONG TO PIECES, AND FIGURE YOU ALL MIGHT WANT TO, AS WELL. TOODLES, AND, AS ALWAYS,  
**

 **GOD BLESS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER**

It's been nearly an exact year since our escape from HalfWorld and our self-employment as bounty hunters. While it's been a crazy ride, I can honestly say I don't regret a single instant of it. Rocket and I are truly happy together with Groot, racing around the galaxy, exploring and getting paid to beat sleazebags and the scum of the universe to a pulp and turning them in. We'd established stipulations, however.

1) We don't like killing our bounties.

2) We only accept bounties on those who have committed crimes of unspeakable proportions, generally. [When we were really stripped for Units (which was less often than you'd think), we'd kidnap a few punks with some good reason for having a bounty put on them and deliver them without a single care, getting paid for our troubles before returning to the stricter statues we governed ourselves by]

3) We only accept Units. (Yes, this presented a rare occasion in which we had to deny a bounty because they were offering some other alien currency than the far more widely-used Units. Go figure)

Besides those three rules, we were free to do as we wished, meaning we celebrated with a few drinks, cursing the world (HalfWorld specifically) and all it's problems that created the monsters we turned in for profit. On and on the cycle repeated, until...

We were sitting in tone of the multiple courtyards in Xandar's capital city. It was one of those times we were just happy to get a hit as Rocket and I scanned the crowd for wanted felons we could beat up and turn in. Nothing had popped up and we were getting bored. Locking the screen on my pad, I leaned against the fountain we were standing beside. Rocket notices and turns to me.

"You alright?" He asks, worried.

"Yeah...I'll be okay." I reply, closing my eyes against the bright sunlight and trying to relax against the stone.

"Migraine? Implant aches? What's wrong, Blade?"

"Spine aches _and_ a headache. Not fun." I reply, grimacing, unable to get truly comfortable due to the stone. "I'll be okay in a minute. The attacks don't usually last long, anyway." I add, and Rocket goes back to observing and searching the crowd for something to do. He scoffs.

"Xandarians." He notes. "What a buncha losers. All of 'em in a big hurry to get from somethin' stupid to nothin' at all."

"They think it's important, dear." I remind him. "We've been over this."

"Pathetic." I chuckle, not opening my eyes.

"Rocket, some people view bounty hunters as stupid punks who don't have anything better to do." He doesn't respond and decides to keep looking. I can hear him shifting around, but refuse to open my eyes.

"Look at this guy. Can you believe they call _us_ criminals when he's assaulting us with that haircut?"

"Uh...we beat people to a pulp for a living, love." I remind him, chuckling. "That's bound to upset a few people."

"I guess. Sensitive pricks." He says, then spots something else apparently worth commenting on.

"What is this thing?" Rocket asks. I reluctantly open my eyes to take a peek before closing them again.

"A humanoid baby, darling." I reply. He scoffs.

"Look how it thinks it's so cool. It's not cool to get help! Walk by yerself, yeh little gargoyle!" He growls.

I laugh. "That explains why it took you so long to walk." It was true; I had been walking for a few weeks before Rocket finally deigned to cling to the bars. Before that, he suffered through aching muscles and overworked spine because he insisted he didn't need help. He gives me a deadpanned look.

"You jes' _had_ to bring that up."

"Yep"

"Look at Mr. Smiles over here." He muses after turning back to the crowd. I sigh, resting time over and come over to see what Rocky wanted me to look at. It was a elderly male Xandarian humanoid chatting with a younger-looking female humanoid. I roll my eyes despite the lingering migraine. "Where's yer wife, old man?" He asks mockingly.

"What if that's his wife, Rocky?" I muse.

"What if it isn't?" He replies, not missing a beat. "What a class-A prevert."

"That's 'pervert', dear." I remind him.

"Whatever." He replies, laughing. "What do you think, Groot?" He asks, turning to find our companion drinking water out of the fountain. I face-palm.

"Groot, we've talked about this." I protest. He stands up, acting like nothing had happened.

"Don't drink fountain water, you idiot. That's disgusting." Rocket scolds.

"Who knows what's in that water, Groot. It's not sanitary." I point out in a gentler tone. Groot shakes his head with an innocent look on his face.

"Yes, you did. I just saw you doing it." Rocket points out. "Why are you lying?" I was struck, once again, with the thought that Rocket and I kinda served as Groot's parents sometimes, due to Groot's lack of understanding about normal culture and what was appropriate versus what was frowned upon. In that manner, we were his parents, his superiors. But other than that, we looked to him for a lot of what we do, such as transporting our marks and enforcing our standing as some of the fastest rising Bounty Hunters on Xandar, of which there was a surprisingly little number. Suddenly, Rocket's pad bleeped with a notification of an available bounty in the vicinity. "Whoop. looks like we got one." He grunts, heaving the pad up again and taking a look. A decent-looking male human about twenty or more years old was talking to a pink-skinned humanoid woman. A scan told us that the mark, the man, was Terran, named Peter Quill, was a Ravager, and was 36 years old. "Okay, humie, let's see how bad someone wants to find you." Rocket whispers to himself as he accepts the bounty. The Ravager captain himself, Yondu Udonta, turns out, wanted this Peter Quill alive, to the tune of... _holy_...40,000 Units?! Whoa...What the...why on Xandar would anyone want someone brought in _that_ badly?! "Whoa, 40,000 Units?! Groot, Blade, we're gonna be rich!" Rocket cries happily. I smile.

"Yeah. I read that, too. We just gotta go get him, then figure out how to find Yondu." I muse. "But, yeah, when that's done, we'll be well off again." I add. Then cringe as the headache returns. Rocket's face fell as he turned to find Groot drinking water again. "Groot, stop that, please." I order. He reluctantly does. "Rocket found us a mark. Let's go." We track him to a pawn shop owned by a Xandarian by the name of the Broker. I stall Rocket charging in, keeping us in a side alley. "We can't just barge in there. Let's let him come back out. We don't like making a scene, remember? NovaCorp is _still_ bitter about us hijacking that cruiser. Let's play this subtle." Rocket groans.

"I _hate_ subtle." Rocket grumbles as Peter comes out, yelling something at the man within the store (who had slammed the door in Peter's face) before starting a conversation with the woman beside the door.

"I know." I reply. Then, just as Quill was wrapping u chatting with this green humanoid human, she grabbed whatever was in his hands, and kicked his stomach to stall for time to make her quick escape. "Whoa! Rocket, come on! Peter's gonna get away!" I call, already in motion, aches and migraine suddenly gone. We chase the pair down a street, watching from a distance as Peter throws a bala at the woman, who falls. He gets over to her just as she gets the bala off and thrusts her feet into his chest. The pair then fight while laying down for a few moments as we dodge around people and shove others out of our way in our haste. If she kills him or tries to turn her in herself...

When we get within ten feet, she has his hand pinned beneath her foot and is readying a sword, intent clear. I narrow my eyes.

"Oh, no you don't." I growl, as Rocket and I leap out, slamming into the woman, pinning her down.

"Put him in the bag, put him in the bag!" Rocket calls as the woman stands with both of us clinging to her, me trying to keep her arms by her sides with my arms and trip her up with my legs. So far, neither outcome was working out. Rocket is trying to keep her still by pulling her backwards, which one would think would add to her unbalance, but this lady was scary good at staying uprig-Groot!

"No, no, not me!" I cry as vines wrap around the woman's legs, going all up her body. Peter stands up and starts running away. I grit my teeth. "Wrong female, wrong female!"

"Get your head in the game, man." Rocket grumbles.

"Not the issue, darlin'!" I cry. "You didn't clarify."

"Yeah, ye-OW! Biting?! That's not fair." Rocket growls, just as the woman wrenches her arms away, striking my nose in the prcess, grabbed both of us, and hurled us over the edge of the walkway we were on. I slam my stomach on a glass roof over a tramway stop while Rocket hits the wall. "You good?" He asks as we get up. I grimace, holding my stomach for a moment.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good. Let's go before she kills our mark." I reply, taking off with or without Rocky. We find Groot running up to Peter as the woman lands in the very fountain we'd been standing beside when this whole endeavor started. Thankfully, Groot had the sack and was creeping up on the unsuspecting Peter, who was understandably startled and protested when the sack slammed over him. Groot smiled happily as we headed toward our base to locate Yondu and collect on that generous bounty.

"Quit smiling, you idiot. You're supposed to be a professional." Rocket scolds playfully, smiling himself.

"Pot, meet kettle. He enjoys his job, so do we. Let him have his moment." I reprimand, equally as playfully. Rocket shrugs, then stops as he sees the sopping wet and angry-looking woman stalking toward us. I pull my machete as Rocket grabs his gun with a 'you _gotta_ be kidding me'. Or, we would have, if the woman didn't simply shove us aside, not even breaking stride. I land on Rocket and we untangle ourselves as quickly as we can, popping up to see her slicing into Groot!

"NO!" I scream, charging forward, and receiving a punch for my troubles. Rocket gets squashed beneath me again, sadly. By the time we get up, we find the woman unconscious and our mark running for the hills. Rocket gets a wicked smirk on his face as he pulls out his gun. I catch my breath, clutching my abused abdomen.

"You know, Blade, I live for the simple things." I smile.

"Oh?"

"Like how much this is gonna hurt." He adds, firing off a taser blast, hitting Peter dead center of his back. Rocket laughs at the scream coming from Peter. "Yeah. Writhe, little man." Whimpering draws our attention to Groot, who is sadly poking his severed arm with his foot.

"Oh, Groot. It's okay, buddy." I comfort.

"It'll grow back, yeh d'ast idiot. Quit whining." Rocket scolds.

"Rocket, honey, he just needs a little...oh, crap." I curse as several NovaCorps craft appear and catch us in their tractor beam. "Hey, guys. Whassup?" I ask lightly as we are moved a little higher.

 _"Subjects 83P65 and 89P13, drop your weapons."_ The officer in charge orders crisply. Rocket repeats my 'oh, crap' protest as we both drop our weapons. " _By the_ _authority of the NovaCorps, you two are under arrest for the endangerment of life and the destruction of property."_ I huff and cross my arms.

" _Three_ of us, and we have _names_ , you know!" I spit. "Blade and Rocket. How many times do we have to tell you? Besides, that green chick and the other dude did most of the damage." I add sourly, watching as the lady was-wait...do I know her? I feel like I-oh, crap. That's Gamora, if I'm not mistaken. Daughter to the Mad Titan, and wanted all across the known universe for various heinous crimes. No one had dared place a bounty on her, however, fearing Thanos' wrath, so we had never faced each other before. Glad we hadn't. She packs a _whallop_!

"Fascists." Rocket grumbles.

"They're just doing their job, Rocket. That does not make them fascists." I reply.

"The system is fascist, so anyone who follows that system is therefore a fascist themselves."

=#=#=#=#=

"Welcome back, 83-"

"That's Blade to you, prick." I snarl at the officer in charge of making sure we got to the holding room after being scanned to wait before they sent us to whatever slammer had a vacancy.

"You two have _names_ , huh?" Peter asks incredulously. Rocket glares daggers at him.

"And why _shouldn't_ we?!"

"Well, I dunno...you just struck me as...I dunno." He says again, clearly uncomfortable. "Why do they call you two 'subject'?" We glare at him and he puts his hands up in surrender.

"Don't." I growl, and Peter takes a step back.

"I am Groot." ("He is rude.") Groot mumbles. Peter cocks a brow.

"He _is_ rude, bud." I reply, which makes Peter even more confused. I sigh.

"He's a Flora Collussus." I say as if it should explain everything and refuse to elaborate. Which makes Peter shut up from an overload of confusion. I smirk "Why did your own captain put a massive bounty on your head?" I ask.

"A misunderstanding involving whatever that orb is. He seems to think he deserves it." Quill replies. I nod.

"Hmm. And he's none too happy that you're withholding it, I presume?" I ask. He nods, but doesn't say anything else. I sigh and settle in for the wait. It wasn't long.

=#=#=#=#=

The Kyln is our temporary holding facility. I smile. No way we'd be staying long. Rocket knows his way around these kinda prisons. Rocket, Groot and I will be gone in a matter of days. The transporter clicks into the entrance tunnel and we stand to disembark.

"Figures that NovaCorps sticks us here. They really _are_ still bitter about that cruiser, if they're assigning us to the most corrupt prison they have." I mutter, scoffing.

"Who knew?" Rocket replies. Peter cocks a brow.

"You know this place?" I smirk.

"You've never been here?" I ask haughtily.

"No. What's it like? Is it really corrupt?" He asks, as if genuinely curious. I shake my head.

"Rocket's better at explaining. Rocky?"

"I guess most of NovaCorps want to uphold the law, but these ones here? They're corrupt and cruel." He then smirks, chuckling. "But, hey, that's not my problem." I smile. "Blade and I ain't gonna be here long. We've escaped over 22 prisons."

"Maybe not the place, love." I whisper, but Rocket ignores me.

"This one's no different." He boasts proudly. We are now inside the Klyn and are preparing to get the sanitizing treatment. I swallow. I _hate_ it, but it happens at nearly every single one of these places. "You're lucky the broad showed up, because otherwise Groot, Blade and I would be collecting that bounty right now, and you'd be getting drawn and quartered by Yondu and his goons." Peter scoffs.

"I've had a lot of people try to kill me over the years. I'm not about to be brought down by a dog, a tree, and a talking raccoon." I narrow my eyes.

"I am a _timberwolf_ , and I can talk, too. And I already told you, Groot is a Flora Collussus, not just a tree." I snap. Peter sighs as we're ordered to hold our positions.

"Whatever." Rocket tilts his head in confusion while I'm talking and decides to voice his question.

"What's a 'raccoon'?" He asks. I gulp.

"'What's a raccoon'?" Peter asks, as though he can't believe what he's hearing. "It's what you are, stupid."

"Hey! Don't insult him." I growl.

"Oh, lay off, lady." He snaps back.

"Ain't no thing like us, 'cept us!" Rocket growls, gesturing between us to emphasize his point. Peter just looks at Gamora.

"So...this orb has a real shiny blue suitcase, Ark of the Covanent, Maltese Falcon sort of vibe. What is it?" She merely stares straight ahead. Groot leans forward to duck into the next room we were lead to.

"I am Groot." ("Dangerous and evil.") He warns. I quirk a brow.

"Huh." I knew Flora Collussus could sense things about people and sometimes objects. If he didn't like the orb...that probably wasn't a good sign.

"So what?" Peter snaps before turning back to Gamora. "What's the orb?" She scoffs.

"I have no words for an honorless thief." She seethes. I roll my eyes.

"Pretty high and mighty, coming from the lackey of a genocidal maniac." Rocket muses wryly.

"They don't call him the Mad Titan for nothing." I add. She looks back at us as if surprised we knew her.

"Yeah, we know who you are." I call.

"Anyone who's anyone knows who you are." Rocket adds.

"Yeah! We know who you are!" Peter calls menacingly. "Who is she?" He then asks, leaning back a little. I face-palm, having to use both hands due to the handcuffs.

"Oh, you have to be joking." I whimper. "How are you that stupid?" I don't tell him who she is, though. That would spoil the fun.

"I am Groot." ("Blade told you, if you were paying attention.") Groot replies.

"Yeah, you said that." Peter snaps.

"He didn't, buddy. But that's just cus he's dumb." I whisper. He smiles.

"I am Groot." ("He really is.") Groot replies, failing to keep his voice low. Peter just sighs, giving up on responding.

"I wasn't retrieving the orb for Ronan." Gamora explains suddenly. "I was betraying him."

"You'll understand if that don't convince us." I reply, face deadpanned.

"I had an agreement to sell it to a third party." Is her only reply.

"I am Groot." (Here comes the sanitation.") Groot notes. I sigh.

"Yep. Ugh."

"Well, that's just as fascinating as the first 89 times you told me that." Peter replies, exasperated. "What is wrong with Giving Tree, here?"

"He is fine." I reply. "The only thing wrong is that most can't understand his species, but that's on them, not Groot." I reply.

"Well, that and he don't know talking good like me and you, so his vocabulistics is limited to 'I' and 'am' and 'Groot'. Exclusively in that order." I roll my eyes.

"'Vocabulistics isn't a word." I point out.

"Regardless, that's gonna wear real thin, real fast." Peter replies.

"Only for those who can't understand him." I reply wryly. Peter then glances at a side room where people are crating up our belongings then wait for our clothes.

"Hey, put that away." He snaps at someone inside. I peek and see a blue alien with some kinda headphones over his ears, and I can hear faint music coming from them. I cock a brow. Just as the door closes (why wasn't it closed before?), Peter slides in angrily. I wonder what he was so upset about; this kinda thing happens incredibly often in these types of places. "Listen to me, you big blue bastard. Take those headphones off. That's mine. Those belong to impound." He seethes. I sigh.

"Peter, just let it go. It's not worth-Uh-oh." I feel my ears flatten as the guard Peter was barking orders at frowned, grabbed a taser rod and stomped toward Quill, enraged.

"That tape and that player are mine!" Peter roars, as enraged as the guard. The rod connected harshly to Peter's chest. I gasped and took a step back, feeling as though...not there! I'm _not_ there! HalfWorld is _gone_! In the past. It's okay. Rocket has a little more outward control, but I know that look. He's as affected by this as I am. Peter's on his knees when I make myself look again, grimacing and somehow still defiant. " _Hooked on a Feeling_ , Blue Swede, 1973. That song belongs to _me_!" He screams. The guard, nonplussed at his defiance, slammed the rod into Peter's chest again. I grimace, but don't move. Peter's writhing on the floor churns my stomach, but I know I can't show anything, and neither does Rocket. Rocket and I have a rep to maintain, after all.

"Welcome to the Kyln, Peter." I whisper sympathetically before moving away from the grate. Rocket sighs, turning away, as well.

"I'm sure you won't enjoy your stay."

 **...**

 **I AM STILL A LITTLE SHOCKED BY THE NUMBER OF REVIEWS THIS STORY ALREADY HAS, CONSIDERING IT'S VERY YOUNG AGE. THANK YOU A MILLION TIMES TO ALL WHO HAVE REVIEWED AND A HUGE SHOUT-OUT TO THE GUESTS THAT SUBMIT THEIR THOUGHTS REGARDING MY LITTLE NERDY OUTLET OF ENERGY. YOU GUYS MAY NOT BE 'OFFICIAL' TO SOME, BUT YOU ARE EVERY BIT AS AWESOME AS THOSE WHO REVIEW WHILST SIGNED IN TO THEIR ACCOUNTS. THANK YOU AGAIN FOR TAKING THE TIME, EVERYONE, TO REVIEW AND GIVE ME FEEDBACK ON MY STORY! LOVE YOU ALL AND MERRY CHRISTMAS!  
**


	5. Making or Breaking the Escape Plan

**HERE'S ANOTHER CHAPTER FOR YOU GUYS. I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT!**

 **OKAY, SO I HAVE HAD A COUPLE QUESTIONS ABOUT BLADE'S APPEARANCE THAT I WISH TO CLARIFY FOR EVERYONE.**

 **Whatever image the word 'timberwolf' conjures up is fine by me in terms of fur patterns and coloring. Also, she is a bit larger than Rocket. I think I alluded to that in the story a few times, "I have never liked using my larger size and strength to my own advantage', for instance. She is not large enough to dwarf Rocket, but she is bigger than him. Rocket is not THAT much bigger than raccoons, if you really start to think about it, so having Blade only a bit bigger than him, like wolves are a bit bigger than raccoons (as you pointed out) is fairly realistic to me. That, and the serum the scientists used might have affected Blade SLIGHTLY differently than Rocket in terms of growth, if you want to think about it that way.** **She started out as a simple wolf that was given a serum to give her an anthropomorphic appearance, meaning that she is like the turtles in TMNT, and is thus able to handle objects like a machete. Turtles' hands were not made to grab things, but those guys can.**  
 **Also, if it helps, Blade was one of the smaller wolves in her litter, and as such was not as large as she could have been. And she was raised in captivity, and was NOT treated with tender loving vare at ALL, kept in a CAGE fer Pete's sake, so that plays a role in stunting her growth, as well, to me. She does have a semi-digitigrade gait, meaning her feet are mostly on the ground but as you pointed out, there is a slight digitigrade (tip-toed) walk, just because that's more natural to her. If she's in a rush, panicked, or scared, however, she'll go on all fours for a good stretch, but she is not able to continuously run on all fours due to her changed body.**

 **GOD BLESS AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**

 **~THE LUPINE SOJOURNER.**

The actual washing was not _horrible_ in and of itself, even if I had to take off my jumpsuit in front of several guards (some of them men, awkwardly). After all, Rocket and I had gotten used to bathing on a fairly regular basis. It mainly was the fact that Gamora was _right_ _there_ behind me and we ended up in the dressing room at about the same time that made it miserable. I covered my chest implants as best I could and thanked my lucky stars that my fur hid my flaming cheeks.

"T-turn around." I mumble as she enters, facing her and trying to make sure she couldn't see the monstrosities the scientists had put inside me. Gamora gave me an inquisitive stare. I gulp and stand straighter. "Turn around. Now." I repeat, sterner. She takes a step forward and I take one back to counter. "G-Gamora, turn around. Now. Please." She merely frowns.

"We are both fem-"

"I _know_!" I snap. "Ju-just turn around." I order, cheeks flaming as she tilts her head inquisitively. She reluctantly spins as I take a step toward the table with the prison uniform on it. I grab the shirt first and throw it on in a record time. Then, I grab the pants and start pulling them up. "Okay. You can look." I mumble. Gamora sighs as she grabs her uniform and slips it on, but I note that she tries to see what I'm hiding under these clothes I glare at her and she stops.

"Why was-"

"Don't ask." I growl testily, leaving the room before I get any more questions. I find Rocket waiting, still slightly damp, but in uniform and looking severely put-out. I head over and find him smiling at me as his arm finds its way around my hips, a natural position whenever the opportunity arose. It also demonstrated just how affected Rocket pretended not to be by the presence of people who didn't know our backstory. For example, a confused Gamora and Peter, who exchanged uneasy glances we acted like we hadn't seen.

No one said a word as we were lead out to the main area, bedrolls slammed into our chests as we made it to the entrance. I sigh. These always rub my fur the wrong way. Every single time. I usually give them to other prisoners in exchange for a brush or something. Sometimes instructions a new hairstyle I like, though that was never in the Kyln. I'd die if I tried to pull that stunt here.

However, all of a sudden, there was a piece of fruit smashing into the ground beside my foot and I leapt aside. I looked up and saw several prisoners throwing various items at Gamora, most simply littering the floor and making it harder to walk across the main area. I swallowed, almost feeling bad for Gamora. NovaCorps must really _hate_ her to put her in a literal pit of her enemies with guards that couldn't care less about her and what happened to her. However, I'd be lying if I said I didn't understand where this hate came from. Gamora has murdered her way across the galaxy and committed other horrendous acts in her 'father''s name. Gamora herself doesn't seem fazed or scared by the crowd screaming for her blood, but i can tell that there is a trace of worry about what might happen to her hidden in those eyes. I sigh, knowing she wouldn't last the night.

"It's like I said; she's got a rep." Rocket explains at Peter's confused and slightly fearful scanning of the crowd. "A lot of prisoners here have lost family to Ronan and his goons. She'll last a day, tops." He adds grimly. This is reinforced by more threats from the crowd.

"The guards'll protect her, right?" Peter asks. Rocket and I scoff.

"Oh, Peter. You have no idea what prison and the real world are like, do you?" I ask, tsking him scornfully. "Poor naive sod."

"They're here to keep us from getting out. They don't care what we do to each other inside." I shake my head, remembering a tale I overheard at a bar when I ordered drinks once. Let's just say, females were not given an ounce of respect in these types of prisons. Lucky for me, I was always so odd, no one came close to me. That, and Rocket and I bit them if they tried. And then Groot intervened, forcing them away.

"Whatever nightmares the future holds are dreams compared to what's behind me." Gamora growls.

"You say that, but I think you're underestimating these guys, Gamora. They mean to kill you and they will, first chance they get." I warn. Then, before I can warn Peter, he stops short of a tall, muscle-bound blue alien. The thing chuckles, smirking down at Quill in what I assume was meant as an inviting and welcoming manner, but came off as lusty and unsettling.

"Check out the new meat." He muses cheerily. I narrow my eyes. Great. This idiot is gonna make us severely injure him in order to establish who has first dibs on _our_ mark...isn't he? Ugh. "I'm gonna slather you up in Gunavian jelly, and go to town-" The alien boasted, stroking Peter's cheek creepily, laughing as though this was all just a joke. Groot came forward, sending vines up the guy's nose, crunching them against his skull painfully. It was clear that this alien was some kind of authority among the prisoners here. So, in order to establish our dominance in the matter of who does what to Peter Quill, we had to go through him and make a statement. I hated this part of our job, but knew that to stop it would be extremely foolish, as weak prisoners never last in places like this. I give an ear-splitting yip to gain everyone's attention as the blue alien continues to cry in pain with Groot's vines still in his nose.

"Let's make something clear!" Rocket roars to everyone gathered. "This one here is _our_ booty!" Rocket screams, point first to Quill, then to himself and gesturing to me and Groot. "You wanna get to him, you go through us. Or, more accurately, _we_ go through _you_!" He goes on in a menacing tone, making the threat absolutely clear. Groot finishes screwing everything in that moron's thick skull and lets him slam to the floor, writhing and clutching his face in his pain. We then leave, confident these dopes got the message, to claim a decent spot in our cells.

"I'm with them." Peter calls awkwardly.

"I hate you..." The inmate whines as Peter steps over him and follows us. We let him follow us until I have to go down the hall further to the females' cell bock, finding a decent spot and setting my roll down. Soon enough, the 'lights out' order is given and we all shuffle off the cells to get a bit of sleep. I curled into a corner and hoped I could actually catch a few winks.

=#=#=#=#=

When the prisoners came, as I had known they would, they were stealthier than I thought they could be. In fact, it wasn't until they spoke that I knew they were in the room. Gamora stood at knife-point and followed their lead. Not that she had a choice, surrounded and with her life on the line. I lay back down, hoping that at least they'd give her a quick, fairly painless death. I knew they most likely wouldn't, but it was all I could- _Peter_?! I sit up again, watching Peter stalk after the group plotting murder. I groan, but prepare to lay-Rocky?! You, too?! Growling under my breath, I take off after them.

"What's going on?" I whisper to my mate. He scoffs.

"Pete's got a death wish." Rocket growls.

"What's that got to do with us?" I ask and Rocky sighs.

"I honestly couldn't care less 'bout the guy, but he's our mark. Remember? We need him alive." I nod.

"Yeah. Let's go get him." I agree. The group seem to have stop moving just up ahead and then there's a booming voice, silencing all the others.

"You know who I am, yes?" I pale. That voice...that's Drax the Destroyer. He's the _one_ prisoner that I would _never_ want to mess with ordinarily, but it appears we have might not have a choice if we want our mark alive. The mark that continues moving forward, ignoring our pleas to get him to get back to the cell and forget what he's seen.

"Quill?" Rocket tries again.

"Peter, there's nothing we can do against that many. Especially not Drax. Come on." I instruct, but Peter merely waves us away absently.

"You're Drax. The Destroyer." One alien supplied meekly. "You slayed dozens of Ronan's minions."

"Ronan murdered my wife, Ovette, and my daughter, Camaria." I swallow, a small amount of sympathy arising for this murderous maniac. Death is not something to be taken lightly. "He slaughtered them where they stood." I wince. That's awful, but not our problem. "And he _laughed_!" Drax roared at the apparent leader of the rabble. He wisely winces away. "Her life is not yours to take. He killed my family. I shall kill one of his in return." Drax growls. I gulp. This guy is serious about this.

"Of course, Drax. Here, I..." The alien whimpers, handing the knife over. Gamora tenses. I groan. Hopefully, Peter isn't stupid enough to-yep. He's stupid enough. _Frick._ I guess this is our problem _now_. Thanks, Quill.

"Peter, get _back_ here!" I hiss. Rocket tugs at Peter's pants and I tug at the shirt to stall him as Gamora disarms her opponents and holds Drax and the leader at knife-point. This could only go badly.

"Quill, what are you _doing_?" Rocky hisses, but Peter swats us away.

"I am _no_ family to Ronan or Thanos." Gamora seethes and for a moment, just a moment, I believe her. She even drops the knives to convince them. "I'm your only hope at stopping him." She adds. This only undoes the temporary peace she had achieved as Drax slams her against the wall, hand closing around her throat as Gamora struggles and gags. I wince, knowing what choking and feeling your life squeezed out of you feels like.

"Woman, your words mean _nothing_ to me!" Drax roars, pointing the knife he'd grabbed from the ground up at her for added effect, I guess. Peter then lunges forward, gaining everyone's attention. Rocket and I face-palmed. This guy must really have a death wish.

"You know, if killing Ronan is truly your sole purpose, I don't think this is the best way to go about it." Peter muses. I gape at him. He must either really want to die or he must, for some reason, give a crap about this woman. Either way, that was an incredibly stupid move. Even Drax was dumbfounded by Peter involving himself in this. I made a move to go get our mark, but Rocket took my hand and I decided to stay right where I was.

"Are you not the man this wench attempted to kill?" He growls. Peter sighs subtly.

"Well, I mean, she's hardly the first woman to try and do that to me." He then pulls up his shirt up to reveal a small scar on his side. "Look, this is from a smokin' hot Rajak girl. Stabbed me with a fork. Didn't like me skippin' out on her at sunrise." I cocked a brow. Gross. "I got, here, a Kree girl, tried to rip out my thorax. She caught me with this skinny little A'askavariian who worked in Nova records. I was trying to get information." I nearly threw up. I knew that...intimacy was common among humanoid species, but...to actually hear about it...to hear a confession...that's just nasty. Especially being with an A'askavariian...you have serious issues, Quill. Peter then pulled a disgusted face. "You ever seen an A'askavariian? They have tentacles and needles for teeth." He went on. I grimaced. Geez, Quill! "If you think I'm seriously interested in _that_ , then...you don't care. But here's the point." He explained hurriedly, realizing that Drax was not any closer to releasing Gamora. "She betrayed Ronan. He's coming back for her. And when he does...that's when you..." He then sliced his finger across his throat. Drax frowned.

"Why would I put my finger on his throat?" He asks, genuinely bewildered. It took a second to remember that Drax's species was _extremely_ literal. They say what they mean and mean what they say and expect the same from others.

"What?" Peter asked, and only got the message when Drax continued to look confused. "Oh, no, it's a symbol. This is a symbol for you slicing his throat." He explained, performing the motion to show the similarities.

"I would not slice his throat." Drax growls. "I would cut his head clean off." Peter barely refrains from rolling his eyes, and under normal circumstances, I would have been laughing hysterically at this exchange.

"It's a general expression for you killing somebody." Peter generalized again, trying to get Drax to understand. Peter then turned to the alien that had given Drax the knife. "You know what this is, right? You've seen this, right? You know what this is?"

"Yeah, yeah..." The flustered alien stuttered.

"Everyone knows." Peter pointed out. Drax then glared at the meek alien in what appeared to be disbelief.

"No, no..." The alien then amended. Peter seemed put out at this alien's reaction.

"What I'm trying to say is," Peter went on, getting a little irritated by the length of this conversation. "you want to keep her alive. Don't do his work for him." Drax seemed to consider this for a few very tense moment before finally releasing Gamora. She coughed and struggled to regain her breath, holding her throat. He then peered closely at the knife he'd nearly committed murder with.

"I like your knife. I'm keeping it." He informed the alien before leaving. The alien obviously didn't complain until Drax was out of earshot.

"That was my favorite knife." I snorted.

"Too bad. It's Drax's now." I murmur, coming forward and pulling Peter's arm. "Now, let's get back to our cells and just...forget this. " I order and Rocket helps me drag this sorry human's fricking stupid butt outta here. Gamora stalks toward Peter.

"What was that?!" She seethes, catching up to Peter as we all exit the showers.

"Why are you mad I saved your life?" Peter replies, sounding about as angry with Gamora as she was with him.

"I am not mad, I just don't understand." Gamora snaps back.

"Listen, I could care less whether you live or whether you die!"

"Then why stop the big guy?" Gamora demands, whirling on him. Peter sighs.

"Simple. You know where to sell my Orb." I face-palm. What was so important about a piece of metal?! Why does everyone want it?! Rocket merely sighs, shaking his head resignedly.

"How are we going to sell it when it and us are still here?"

"That's a good point, Quill." I point out, leaning against the railing beside Rocket. Peter merely smirked.

"My friends Blade and Rocket-"

"Oh, we're not friends, Peter. You're our mark. That's _it_." I interject. Peter rolls his eyes.

"Point is, they've escaped 22 prisons."

"Soon to be 23." I add, smirking. Rocket smiles.

"Oh, we're getting out." He agrees confidently. In fact, I was sure Rocket was formulating a plan, as I am. "And then we're headed straight to Yondu to retrieve your bounty."

"The sooner, the better." I add. Peter frowns.

"How much was your buyer willing to pay you for my Orb?" Peter asks Gamora, not taking his eyes of us.

"...4 billion Units." My jaw went slack in utter shock.

" _What_?!" Rocket and I exclaimed in unison.

"Holy shit!" Peter adds.

"That Orb is my opportunity to get away from Thanos and Ronan." Gamora continues. "If you free us, I'll lead you to the buyer directly and I'll split the profit between the four of us." I shrug.

"Fair deal, I say."

"I am Groot." ("Don't forget me.") Groot added, coming to the doorway of the cell we were standing in front of. I smile.

"Of course not."

"So, the five of us." Rocket muses then scoffs. "Asleep for the danger, awake for the money, as per frickin' usual." Rocket grumbles. I roll my eyes.

"He's always right with us, Rocky. No need to insult him." I point out. Peter cocks a brow at Rocket's nickname, but wisely doesn't comment. And with all that said, we agreed to start planning our escape over breakfast and get out as soon as possible, as no escape was going to work with sleep-deprived people planning and trying to execute said planned escape.

=#=#=#=#=

The next morning, I felt Rocket shaking me awake and sat up, rubbing my eyes.

"Morning, love." I greet in a whisper before realizing that there weren't too many inmates in this cell. "What's up?

"Breakfast time." Rocket replied, grinning and giving me a quick kiss.

"Let's go." Hand in hand, we left the cell and met Peter and Gamora at the cafeteria (not really; it was more like a garbage dispenser that we were supposed to eat from). I grimaced as the slop that was supposed to be appetizing was sloshed into one of the three cups in the tray.

"If we're gonna get outta here-"

"We are, but go on." I interject absently.

"-we need to get into that watchtower." Rocket continues, sending me a mock glare. "And to do that, I'm gonna need a few things." I looked around, remembering what we'd used in previous escapes, but nothing appeared. "The guards wear armbands to control their ins and outs. I need one." I hummed, thinking of how we'd get one.

"Leave it to me." Gamora replied. Rocket then notices an inmate with a prosthetic leg, limping toward a table. "That dude, there. I need his prosthetic leg." In any other circumstance, I would have laughed, but that would have ruined the prank.

"His leg?" Peter asked. I nod.

"Yep."

"God knows I don't need the rest of him. I mean, look at him. He's useless." Peter pulls a resigned face.

"All right." I nearly break and chuckle, but I manage to hold it together as we reach a table. I looked at my 'food' closer, pulled a face, and pushed my tray aside once we'd sat down.

"And, finally, on the wall back there is a black panel. Blinky yellow light." Rocket continues. "Do you see it?" The pair look at the panel in question before turning back to Rocket.

"Yeah." Peter replies.

"There's a quarnyx battery behind it. Purple-ish box, green wires. To get into the watchtower, I definitely need it." I nod, not even noticing that Groot's food was suddenly near mine and that I could hear Groot wondering off. Well, I did, but I was focused on Rocket and didn't pay enough attention to it. "How are we supposed to do that?" Gamora asks. I shrug.

"I could probably climb up and get it when no one's around, like tonight." I muse. Gamora thinks it over.

"Are you sure?"

"Well, apparently, some of these bald-bodies find you attractive, so maybe you could work out some kinda trade, if you don't think my Blade can handle it." I roll my eyes at 'my Blade' but suddenly, I hear Groot growing then something ripping and then an inmate grunting and falling. Frowning, I turn and freeze. Groot was about to grab the battery as Peter, Gamora and Rocket continue talking. I smack Rocket's shoulder.

"Roc-rocket...Rocket, look at Groot."

"Sweetheart, I'm trying to get us out of here, now listen. This is important-"

"So is what Groot is doing, Rocky." I squeak, trying to turn Rocket's head, but he was stubborn.

"Whatever he's doing can wait, Blade." He grumbles. "Once that battery is removed, everything will slam into emergency mode. Once we have it, we gotta move quickly, so you're gonna definitely gonna need to get that last."

"Uh, Rocky, I think we need to re-" But before I can finish my comment, the battery snaps out of it's case, triggering an alarm. I cringe as the noise rings in my ears. "Fricking perfect." I grumble.

"Or we'll just get it first and improvise!" Rocket growls.

Now what do we do?! Our escape might have just been thrown out of the window.

Groot...you are a little thick sometimes, I hate to admit.


End file.
